


I use you as a warning sign

by temis



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Rush (2013)
Genre: Alcohol Withdrawal, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, References to Depression, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temis/pseuds/temis
Summary: Watching them is like watching a tragedy play brought to life. Things should have gone back to normal after Niki made his triumphant comeback and James should have reverted to his usual self (drinking, whoring and smoking enough to forget himself) and yet...The Green Hell changed more than just Lauda.The first big surprise after the accident was that Hunt was Lauda's emergency contact, and had to be informed of the crash before he got on the podium. The second was his reaction. His presence was minimal during the two following races, appearing to drive and then going straight to Mannheim, haunting Lauda's bedside.(what if Niki wasn't married AU)





	1. You ripped every edge - and now you are a masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the movie and started researching their history, so this will be a mish mash of true happenings and the movie (mostly because I love Niki Lauda's blue eyes). I write slowly and edit chapters to complete them.  
I feel I should leave this here: I'm writing fanfiction, but I know nothing of the real people depicted here. Everything here is fantasy and should be considered as that.

Watching them is like watching a tragedy play brought to life. Things should have gone back to normal after Niki made his triumphant comeback and James should have reverted to his usual self (drinking, whoring and smoking enough to forget himself) and yet...  
The Green Hell changed more than just Lauda.  
The first big surprise after the accident was that Hunt was Lauda's emergency contact, and had to be informed of the crash before he got on the podium. The second was his reaction. His presence was minimal during the two following races, appearing to drive and then going straight to Mannheim, haunting Lauda's bedside.

\---

James is terrified. The words he wants to say (shout) are glued to his tongue, his hands shaking. He wants to drown himself, forget the day ever happened, but the fear of being too drunk or unconscious if they need him (if Lauda is slipping) trumps the desire for oblivion.

When the priest is called, he doesn't know what to do. He goes, because he can't imagine leaving Lauda to pass alone, his breath stuttering while he watches the priest chant and read, nurses and doctors weaving through the room (should he do something? What can he do?). He is afraid to get closer to the mummy in the bed, afraid to look in the eyes of the corpse lying there and recognize the same light blue colour his rival has. He stays as long as he can stand, after seeing the priest out, and the frenetic rhythm around the bed gentle, Niki apparently sleeping. Then, he goes back to the hall, his faltering steps only allowing him to fall far from the way of the medical staff. 

The only marking of time he has is the presence or absence of other drivers around him, their hushed questions and grave faces when told of the damage (he could swear Clay's moustache lost its colour along with his face when the doctors notified them). 

His legs are heavy and not even the anger he feels when Audetto tries to recruit Emerson while still in the hospital is enough to move him, the lethargy rooting him to his seat. 

His lungs only fill in fully when the doctor tells him Niki is awake, after telling the priest to fuck off. The laughter escapes freely born from his relief (this is so Niki, so much like the Rat he knows), but he doesn't want to go inside, not yet.

How to apologize to the Austrian for voting against him? How to explain that before Nürburgring, against all evidence, he had somehow believed both of them charmed, as if only the inexperienced and unskilled suffered accidents, as if luck and chance didn't play their part in it?

And even worse, how can he bear to see what happened to Niki? All the other times, even when the doctors informed him on his condition, he could fool himself into believing the Austrian would be completely fine, that there would be fewer consequences than the doctors thought (they didn't know Niki, didn't know his determination), but being in the room with the priest, seeing for himself the condition Lauda was in?

It came crashing down, how close the brown haired man came to dying (how close he still is).


	2. Don't make any sudden moves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how good this chapter is, but it is here, I guess. I tried to research how Niki would sound, but I'm also taking artistic license here.  


He stops outside the door, torn between running and the guilt that chains him to the hospital (to Niki). A coughing sound from the other side is what moves him to enter the room, worried about the Austrian.

"Niki?" voice low, he approached the figure in the bed. The first thing he notices is that his throat has a scar, from where they had to intubate him, now stitched. His eyes go up, and he barely stops himself from retching. Niki's right side is a mess of swollen skin, burns, blood, and pus, making his face unrecognizable. The beeping of the machines adds a counterpoint to the labored breathing of the other driver, which sounds as if anytime the strain of keeping his lungs functioning will be too much.

He doesn't know how the Austrian is alive, can't understand what is holding the man on Earth with such injuries, how he is even awake right now.

His soft question is answered by slight movements, Niki trying to get him in his vision, and so he helps as he can, getting closer and taking in even more details (mangled ear, burned wrist, oxygen tank connecting to his nose) before he has to close his eyes to control himself. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Niki" - that was all he could say, all he could bear to say while he took a hold of himself. Breathing in time with the machines, his head bowed down.

"Hunt?" The Austrian's voice was low and rough, a wheezing sound trailing his breath.

"Yes, it's me Niki" His gaze runs through the room, restless, before chancing upon a chair. He takes it, placing it closer to the bed, finally letting his weight fall. That brings him closer to what's left of Niki's face, the skin burnt red, weeping blood in places and rippled.

What saves him, makes it possible to look at Niki are his eyes. Even though Nürburgring left its marks there as well (cloudy, pained eyes), they are still recognizable in their shade and shape, while everything else was changed.

"You should... be racing" rasped the Austrian, the effort making him cough.

"Well, a little rat put me as his emergency contact, so here I am." James tried to recover their normality, and yet - his tone was too gentle and the nickname it was wrong - Lauda's overbite was not his most prominent feature now (James wished it was, wished he could see his sharp cheekbones and curly hair whole again).

"So you are... Giving up the... World Championship? Go back to your car... _Arschloch_". Just speaking seemed to sap most of Niki's strength, leaving him panting.

James was torn between incredulity and anger, couldn't believe what he was hearing, how could the other driver think about the World Championship when he had been so close to death (was still too near the edge for comfort)?  
He wanted to shake Niki, tell him to shove his single-mindedness in his ass and forget about it, Niki may be a machine (and wasn't it ironic, him being kept alive by his medical brethren?), interested only in victory, but James wasn't like that, couldn't be like that.

"I'm terribly sorry to disappoint Niki, but I think I will stay where I am. Considering how scorched you are, I need to make sure someone doesn't look at you and decide you are some bonfire leftovers they need to throw out". James said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes again. It was almost funny - he had spent years doing as he liked and leaving the world (his family, friends and society at large) to despair from his lack of self-control - and Lauda's crash had proved it existed. He had never before been so in tune with what he needed to do versus what he wanted.

Opening his eyes, his rival's face was still a shock, but he took the time to catalogue all that remained the same - his eyes, of course, but also his left side, his forearm and according to the doctors, he hadn't broken or seriously injured his legs or feet.

Sighing tiredly, he steeled himself when he noticed the Austrian was trying to calm his erratic breath to speak again. Talking to Niki was more draining than racing - he felt as if he had run an entire Grand Prix on foot, and he didn't understand why the other driver wouldn't just go to sleep when he should be recovering his strength.

"Hunt... James. I need you to drive..." Niki's eyes were sharp on him, insistent between racking coughs.

"Easy Niki, easy. Don't talk, you will just make your lungs even worse" there wasn't water in the room and he didn't know if he could give it to the Austrian anyway, so he lightly touched the man's forearm, too afraid to put pressure on it, trying to soothe his agitation. He could see the smaller man drawing strength to speak again, and now James was all the more concerned: despite obviously needing to recover, the rat hadn't stopped staring at him, waiting for his answer. 

"Damned rat, will you rest and not drown in your own lungs if I promise to race?" James spoke before the other. 

"_ Ja _" Blue eyes softened for a moment, but his stare didn't waver.

"Then you better hope your nap here isn't long - I wouldn't want to be World Champion without you looking up at me from second place, after all" James rushed out in a sigh, watching as Niki accepted his words and relaxed. 


	3. Take a deeper breath and give it time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I updated the end of the chapter - I'm torn between starting a new chapter or staying in this one for the next bit.  
I'm using tumblr to post more launt stuff: https://launt-things.tumblr.com and accepting prompts.
> 
> Last edited: 12/12/19

Finally, after making sure Niki is resting, James goes out of the room.

The hallways are empty of journalists - the vultures had been thrown out after one of them had invaded Niki's room as if he was a circus attraction. Clay was still there though, getting up as he exited the room.

"So? How is he?"

"Still breathing, being an annoying and burnt rat, sleeping for now at least." James shrugged at the last part, casual even as his hands were itching for a smoke, something to fiddle with, but the doctors had been blunt: Niki needed every advantage to survive - clear air was one of them.

"Do you know when he will get out of here?" Clay's gaze was fixed on the door. Audetto was missing - as he had been since Fittipladi's refusal.

"Are you seriously asking me this when we don't even know if he's completely safe, Regazonni?" His voice was rasping, and he could see it startled Clay, but Ferrari's politics could wait.

"You know Lauda as well as I do - perhaps even better as you are his _ emergency contact _ \- do you really think the arrogant asshole will take well to being substituted? And Hunt, he will be. The only way he can stop that is if he races." Clay's stress on emergency contact made him frown, but for good or bad, he was right - Niki would throw a fit if someone else drove his car (as would any driver to be fair).

"Fuck. Thanks for the heads up." he quickly answered, watching as the Swiss driver went out. 

He was so tired. He wanted to drop everything and go party - drown his guilt and the image of Niki's injuries out of his head. He wanted to curl himself in a ball in his hotel room and die in the dark, or to dream of a whole Niki and know it to be true even if for only a minute.

He slumped down to one of the chairs, resting his eyes for a moment, he imagined how much easier (better) it would have been if the race had never happened. He would have never known how a third-degree burn looked or that Lauda could look so... defenceless and still, no trace of the contempt or anger that accompanied their clashes. And yet, while awake he had been as stubborn as always, contrary and demanding - alive. He hadn't known before going into the room how much he had needed that - to see with his own eyes Niki was still there - annoying little rat that he is.

A discrete cough wrenched him out of his thoughts - one of Lauda's doctors was there.

"Mr Hunt? I need to talk to you about Mr Lauda's treatment, now that his condition is better." The accent is similar, but not the same as Niki's, the sounds sharper, the voice higher.

"Doctor, unless you want to treat me as well, I think it's best if you wait and ask Lauda. I shudder to think what he would do if I decided something while he could do it himself. But I would appreciate an update about his condition, his lungs in particular - I visited him just now and it didn't sound good - is... he out of danger?" His hands are clammy inside the pockets, and he can feel his fingers curl and flatten while he tries to forget the the wheezing in Lauda's breath.

"Mr Hunt, when Mr Lauda arrived, we did not think he would survive. The burns in his lungs and the toxins in his blood too severe. He had less than 10% chance to survive, and that was before he went into a coma" the doctor sighs tiredly, but smiling. "He is still fighting, and so are we. He is not out of danger, no. But he survived until now when we did not think it was possible, so we will not give up now that he has better chances and we can treat the symptoms and injuries without fearing to make his condition critical. It will be a long way before Mr Lauda is better though".

"Thank you" It hurt to hear - that what he saw was just the beginning, and yet, even at his worst he couldn't have deluded himself thinking it would be easy or fast - not after being in the room with Niki... "Is there anything I can help with? Anything I can bring or do?" James leaned back, resting his head in the wall.

"Keep visiting. It is normally better for patients if they have a reason to get better, and Mr Lauda is no different" the doctor said, before cleaning his glasses with a small handkerchief.

James scoffed. "Well, according to him, the last place I should be is here. I doubt my presence is all that helpful or wanted - he told me to go back to racing."

"I understand that Mr Lauda probably knows what would motivate him to keep fighting... but I am speaking from experience Mr Hunt - patients left alone for long rarely do well. But I know nothing of racing - is it necessary for you to go as soon as possible?" the doctor frowned, torn between the good of his patient and the knowledge that his patient's wishes may actually help as much (or perhaps more) as his own recommendation.

"Actually, no. There is still some time before the next Grand Prix" James relaxed somewhat, biting his bottom lip, eyes sliding to the side, thinking about his team's reaction and the next race schedule.

"Then I would suggest you continue to visit, as much as you can"

James laughed "I have no doubts that Lauda will make his opinion known about that, to me as well as you - best to prepare yourself doctor" James said, imagining exactly what the Austrian would do when he discovered James was there on his doctor's orders - a new way to annoy Niki and with a medically valid reason... The rat would probably go apoplectic in rage. Which wasn't a good thing in his state.

As he left the hospital, James thought about what he would do in his next visit. Talking was out, Niki couldn't answer and watching the man try had been painful. Smoking was prohibited, he doubted the doctors would allow Niki to drink anything alcoholic and telling Niki about Ferrari might set the man back (though he would need to do that soon, before it hit the news). Maybe a book? He doubted his tastes were the same as the Austrian, but at least it would be something to pass the time - and perhaps entertain Niki while he was visiting.


	4. With your shattered frame of mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niki's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive!

It was the pain that woke him up - the burning sensation dragging him from his dreams.

He couldn't open his eyes - what was left of his eyelids wasn't enough to distribute tears into his eyes and keep them wet enough so they would separate. Like his eyelids, his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth, uncooperative.

Breathing was still a battle - even with the aid of machines, his lungs burned - they felt full and heavy, and his coughing wasn't enough to dislodge whatever was wrong inside them. He had to take three breaths to feel like a normal one.

All he could hear was the beeping of the constant machines. No footsteps or sounds to warn him of another in his room. 

Had Hunt really been to the hospital? Or had he hallucinated his presence along with the comfort of the drugs?

The ache and pain are real, and he can feel the blanket covering his hands and legs, his burnt wrist kept out of contact of the blanket's fabric, the air on his face and forearm. But there is no indication someone else was ever there.

He remembers Hunt blaming himself for the accident, the touch on his forearm, the chair he dragged close to the bed, but there's nothing concrete - nothing near him that he can touch or feel to prove he is not going insane alone in a hospital room.

Before he can understand it, he's panicking, panting into the breather, unable to get as much oxygen as he needs and he imagines drowning in his own lungs after deciding to flaunt his common sense as if he was immortal.

The machines register his distress, drawing the attention of the medical team. The panic in his head distorting their voices until he can't understand what they are doing even as they speak.

In seconds he's sedated before he can ask the nearest nurse anything.


	5. On my own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last updated: 15/03/2020 (finished)

His hotel room is in the same state as when he had left it three days ago - full ashtrays and a small mountain of glasses and bottles.

The receptionist downstairs had passed along the messages from McLaren and Peter, each time marked more and more urgent.

His brother was easier to deal with and could help in the talks with the team, so it was with him that he started.

"Pete? It's James."

"Oh finally! Where are you? Do you even care that you race soon? McLaren is calling me every hour, trying to know where did you vanish to and when you are back." his brother's voice was growled out at the end of the sentence, beginnings and endings blurring with his drawl.

"I was at Niki's hospital. McLaren doesn't need to worry, I will race in Austria, you can tell them that - I will be there five days before the race, but I need to stay here for a while" he rushed out his words, the act leaving him tired and hollow, more conscious now of his breathing and the strength required in it. His eyes burned, his skin tingled unpleasantly from dried sweat.

"I thought you couldn't stand each other? Why would you spend your time there? And what do you mean you need to?" Peter's confused voice sounded far away to him, even though the receiver was glued to his ear.

"The accident only happened because of my vote, Pete. I had to see him, I had to see Niki. Make sure he was alive. I can't just leave him there, do you understand?" The words poured out, leaving him panting into the telephone. In the hospital, even when confronted with Niki' state, the guilt had been bearable. But now, talking to his brother and trying to make him understand - it pressed on his chest again, heavy and hard, choking his breath.

"James, stop. The accident wasn't your fault. No one could have predicted it. Why do you think you need to be there?" Peter's voice came out measured, each word pronounced and spoken clearly in a smooth tone, urging his brother to understand.

He knew James was impulsive, hotheaded and stubborn to the point of stupidity, all traits that helped him on the tracks and caused his family no small amount of trouble out of it and, in this instance, were causing James to be rather emotional about someone he had easily dismissed before as boring and cold, even if formidable rival while racing, to Peter's confusion.

James breathed deeply. He didn't, couldn't believe Peter. His conscience was too heavy, his mind too full of all the possible 'what-ifs' for the next days. He didn't think he could fully concentrate on anything until he knew Lauda was going to survive and drive again. Only then would he be able to leave the guilt behind. He hoped.

"I talked to one of his doctors. He said it would be best if Niki had some company as he's not out of the danger zone yet, and frankly, I don't want to leave him alone either. Right now, that's not negotiable Peter". Hopefully his brother would understand. If he couldn't... his family knew better than most how stubborn he could be.

"I won't be able to change your mind, will I?" was Pete's resigned reply, causing him to huff in relief.

"No. Like I said I plan to stay until the ninth of August, then I should be able to get to Austria with some time to spare, considering I will drive to Frankfurt and then take a plane to Salzburg. From Salzburg I will drive again until I get to Spielberg. I'll arrive at night and be there fresh and early in the morning to take part of the qualifying race, you don't need to worry Pete". was James answer.

He had taken some time to figure out how he could make it to the race in his first day at the hotel: before the beauty of sex hadn't been able to cancel out his frenetic worry, he had sweet talked the receptionist into giving him plane itineraries and best routes to the Österreichring in Austria.

"That's a huge amount of travel you will have to do James! At least let me get you a private plane from Salzburg to Spielberg, that should cut down the time you will spend travelling" Pete's voice already sounded somewhat far, focused on the problem he had in front of him.

"If you can find one, sure." the thought of flying more than he had to was not pleasant, but it would probably pacify Mclaren enough for them to not throw him out as a driver - and because now with Niki out he had the biggest chance to be champion. The reminder brought acid to his mouth, scalding his throat and leaving him nauseous.

After all the time in the hospital, his body was aching, tired and heavy, and his thoughts moved as if through cotton, slow, sticky and unwilling. He doubted he would sleep well, and yet he needed to.

"I will. James, one thing. I know Lauda's accident was a shock, but please, don't disappear again. If not for me, then for Mum and Dad. We were all worried when after days you didn't call."

"I'm sorry. I promise to call you tomorrow after I get back from the hospital." tugging his hair, there wasn't a lot James could do now about his family's worry (again), but he could try to do better. 

"Fine, talk to you tomorrow, I may have your flight information, if I can arrange everything. What time will you be in your room?" 

"Visitation hours end at 5, but it will take me half an hour at least to get here. Call me at 7".

"Talk to you then James, please take care of yourself"

"I always do Pete" Even before he he finished speaking, he knew what the answer would be - the routine calmed him down. 

"As if! I wish you did" his brother's snort was the last sound he heard before the phone went mute.

It was strange to be alone again. He had spent so long in the hospital, with the nurses and doctors, the whiteness, shadows and cleanliness of the hallways where he had sat powerless; it all contrasted with the off-white dirty appearance of his room. When he moved some of the ashtrays and bottles, looking for his luggage, the ashes and dust flew as if in a cloud and he flinched at the thought of some of it getting in his clothes invading the sterile ambient of Lauda's room. The idea seemed to lodge in his brain - he took all of the trash and frantically threw it out of the room, into the hallway.

As soon as he calmed down he knew it had been the wrong thing to do, but too tired and nervous, he decided to deal with the consequences tomorrow, rummaging through his luggage for clean clothes, before taking a shower and losing consciousness in his unmade bed.


	6. Wash this memory clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James goes back to the hospital to visit Niki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished on 29/03/2020 - a lot was added, specially after James arrives in the hospital

He felt better when he woke up, but exhaustion still weighted his body down. The feeling of thinking through clouds was absent, substituted by the pulsing of a headache behind his left eye. The clock on the table marked 7 AM, too early for him if he had been out the day before... But he had things to do, people to annoy, a certain Austrian in particular.

The thought of igniting that particular fire in Lauda, making him pissed and ready to fight (him, the doctors, the world) at large was good enough reason to get out of bed so obscenely early. He took a shower, ridding himself of all the sweat, panic and stress - almost in a trance, purifying himself before going back to Lauda's room, seeing him again. In a flash, he remembered the Austrian injuries, the burns on his right side, the remains of his ear, making him rest his head in the wall. He could feel his heart rate pick up, faster than when he was on the track, while nausea rolled in waves, uncontrolled before he clamped his jaw shut. Seeing Niki again would be... a trial.

His image of him was still the sarcastic, cold and blunt Kraut who didn't care about him and probably thought his choices were idiotic but respected his talent enough to consider him a rival, his rival. He would need to get used to the burns soon if he was to keep going to the hospital: he doubted the other man would like to be stared at. Either that or he wouldn't give a damn like he did when people called him a rat - it was hard to predict what Lauda would do, and he couldn't even try to guess what he thought. They were too different.

Turning his mind to more practical things, he dressed for the day. First thing, he needed to find a newspaper in English - he doubted anyone would like to hear him try to read aloud in German. After that... See what Lauda decided on his own healthcare, try and get a prevision of when he would be back (if he wanted to come back) to the Formula 1 circus. Nothing that he could know without talking to Lauda himself, as he doubted the doctors would tell him such details unless for some reason Lauda was unable to make decisions - he hoped (prayed) it wasn't the case.

It wasn't exactly easy to find an English newspaper in Mannheim, and a lone edition of the Guardian was the best he could do. Most of the sections were innocuous enough - he doubted Lauda cared much about women being allowed to play cricket in the main square of Lord's and honestly, skipping political news was just a matter of sanity.

While he was walking, he chanced upon a flower shop and by impulse decided to buy a get well bouquet. Most probably Lauda wouldn't appreciate it, but at least it would be something different for him to look at instead of white walls and counting tiles.

Arriving in the hospital, James stopped for a moment, breathing in deeply before entering it.

Going through the familiar hallways, the noise slowly quieting down, until he arrived at his destination: the burn centre of the hospital. There weren't many families visiting, so the rooms were silent as he passed by. However, as he got closer to Niki's room, he could hear small grunts, controlled screams and hisses. Suddenly, his heart went to his throat, exploding into rapid heartbeats as he got anxious about what he would find - hoping against hope that it wouldn't be the controlled frenesi of doctors and nurses inside.

What he saw as he got through the door was better than he expected, but no less alarming. A doctor and a nurse were changing the bandages around Niki's head, carefully peeling the old blood-soaked ones from the burns, sometimes causing the wounds to open up again, irrigating the area and applying pristine white dressings, while Niki clenched his jaw, suppressing as much as he could any sound from pain. He didn't even realize James was there, too focused on not moving and making the doctor's job easier and less painful.

James quickly backtracked out of the room, leaving the things in a chair, staggering to a bathroom and throwing up as soon as he got to the toilet. His stomach slowly calmed down when there was nothing left for him to vomit. Niki's cries couldn't be heard from the bathroom, to his relief.He sat in the toilet, waiting. He didn't think he could bear to be outside and hear Niki while there was nothing he could do.

When he estimated enough time had passed, he went out, noting the silence, the absence of nurses or doctors in the hallway and carefully taking the slightly ruffled bouquet and newspaper, before entering Niki's room again.

"Well, well I see you are slightly less charred today, Rat. I must say the medics here truly work miracles!" the words spilt seamlessly from him, even as he wondered whether the Austrian' sharp mind would pick on his nerves.

Resting on the bed, Niki slowly opened his eyes, as if not believing James presence in front of him. There were already pink blots on his bandages, and the man's breathing was fast, even with the oxygen.

"I hope... I'm hallucinating... Either that... or you confused my room... with one of your... girlfriend's" was the somewhat incredulous reply, Niki's voice wheezing and fading even as his eyes were set on the bouquet in James' hands.

"Oh, this? I thought you would like something different to look at, besides the walls and ceiling. I also brought something to pass the time. News from home. Somewhat boring for you probably, but I can't read German and it would be a disaster if I tried".

"You are... really an idiot... Hunt, get the flowers... far from me. Pollen is not going... to help my breathing" despite the hissing in his respiration, Niki's voice was biting.

"Shit! Will be right back" James quickly threw the bouquet in the first trashcan he saw. "Obviously not one of my best ideas. Just goes to show I was wise to stick with racing instead of being a doctor as my family wanted" James said under his breath before going back.

Niki had changed a bit in position as if trying to get on his side and was staring at him. "I remember... telling you... to race." 

"Yes, you did - even made me promise it. And I will. However, today is the 4th of August, there is still enough time to go until practice and qualifying that I can spend it here - as your doctor mandated. After all, you shouldn't be alone" James beamed, knowing it would annoy the Austrian. When he saw the other man's eyes became slits and opening his mouth as he prepared for a rant, James dropped the act, ruffling his own hair, voice devoid of playfulness. "Niki, I'm not going to leave you alone unless I have to, and believe me, neither your huffing and puffing nor your temper are enough to chase me out of your room. So, let's cut this discussion short" smiling again, James took the newspaper.

"As you are the one in the hospital bed, you can choose which section I should read first. I recommend skipping politics, though. Boring news as always there".

Niki still had his lips pursued, and when he spoke, he pinned James with his glare:

"I don't need... your pity, Hunt" a note of dismay in his voice, dissonant with his general attitude, and worrying for the Brit, who had never heard it before from Lauda.

"And who said I pitied you? I don't" James looked directly into Niki's eyes, trying to convey his sincerity, reaching out and squeezing for a moment the unburnt forearm near his hand, before retreating. "Honestly, Niki, we can talk about you putting me as your contact and the reasons why I'm still here another day. I'm not in the mood for it now, and you are in no state to force me either. So, you have five minutes to choose what you want me to read before I choose for myself"

James turned his attention back to the paper in his hands, flipping through the different pages and missing the confused look Niki threw him.

"If you insist... Sports" was the laconic reply he got, as the Austrian moved to a more comfortable position in the bed, giving up his argument with James.

"Excellent choice!" There is some cricket news that I believe we can jump as they are inconsequential to us, but the football section is always a trove of new experiences..." James' voice recounted the headlines, with him adding his own commentary, the constant noise relaxing, as he kept going during the small hours of visitation, sometimes interrupted by a nurse checking on Niki's condition. 

To Niki's astonishment, James didn't seem to notice the nurses' interest, instead focused on his reading. He almost asked if James was sick, as he had never known the Brit to turn down a woman's attention, but the droning tone James adopted slowly lulled him to sleep. He felt a ghost sensation in his hand over the bandages, James's words never faltering and serving as a lullaby as his vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is okay and stay safe in these times.


	7. And the waves are still breaking

Degluing his eyelids from the crust accumulated in the night was still the worst part of waking up, even more than the heavy sensation in his lungs. The second-worst part was going through the change of bandages, the reason the nurses took him out of restorative sleep in the first place. He could feel how the blood had coagulated and crusted, sticking together, layers and layers of it covering the dressings in his head.

After the first panic-stricken awakening, where he had fought their care in his confusion, the nurses waited until he could understand what was happening to him and around him before starting the process of loosening up and pulling the bandages. Whatever painkiller he was on wasn't enough to silence the agony of raw skin being pulled away with the innermost bandages.

He was thankful James was not there. It would kill his pride to see pity or kindness in the Brit's face, or worse, if James wasn't able to watch it and turned away from him. It had already been bad enough when he had appeared from nowhere after his treatment, the Dummkopf dragging along a bouquet, of all things! But even if he wanted to deny it to himself, James had helped. It was... comforting. To know he was not completely alone, that someone cared enough to be there - it helped more than he had thought possible, James's presence made it easier to endure the procedures, the breathlessness and it reminded him of his goal to go back to racing, to prove to himself that he could (even if he perhaps shouldn't). And from the most unexpected person - he had thought James would be far away, enjoying women, drugs, and drinks, as was his habit before any race after he realized he was on the mend. He thought James would treat the responsibility of being in the hospital as if it was a check on a list he had to go through - doing his best, but not focused - the same way he bumbled through anything he was supposed to care about (but doesn't).

Putting James as the one responsible for his wellbeing while he was incapacitated had been simple, mostly because there were few people that he could trust in that situation: it has been years since he had any contact with his family, and he wasn't going to be the one to come back and ask for help (not like they would care - his grandfather had been clear that Laudas were not drivers). He was between girlfriends - and honestly, he did not know if he could trust a woman he knew for only a few weeks to this point.

If he had chosen Clay, the Swiss would have to contend with pressure from Ferrari so that they could have been the ones to decide his fate - and that was something he could not tolerate. Enzo Ferrari, for all his "gentleman" talk was too focused on the team, too sure of his car importance and not that convinced that drivers may make a difference. He would be an afterthought at best.

He doesn't regret his decision, the logic is sound still, but he doesn't understand why James is acting as he is. Locked into his room, he wonders how long the attitude change will last and how best to anticipate it, so he doesn't get burned (again) when James' support is withdrawn. The constant presence every afternoon, his low toned voice reading the news with a wry wit, touches so light he didn't know if they were real or a figment of his imagination before succumbing to sleep. He... doesn't want to lose that, even though it was happening just because of a misfortune, even though he should know better - he still wanted James' companionship. He craved it on the after-visitation hours, when there was nothing to do but look at the ceiling or fall into a deep slumber, so time would pass more easily.

It was better than trying to remember what went wrong, what was his mistake in Nurburgring, and coming back blank. Or casting his mind into past races, driving them again in his mind just to be interrupted by the pain and fear, dragging him back to the present. He spent hours thinking of how to get back to his car, asking his doctors how his recovery could be sped up, how he could heal well enough to compete soon. The idea that he would waste weeks in a hospital was out of question - he wanted to be back before the end of the race calendar, hopefully before he lost all of his advantage in points to James.

The medic responsible for his treatment was not as optimistic and he couldn't blame him, considering it had only been a couple of days ago that he was considered out of mortal danger, The next race was the Austrian Grand Prix, ironically, and there was nothing he could do to participate in it. He felt the need to move, to do something constructive crawling under his skin, but every time he tried to, the pain and the doctor's warnings to heed his body were enough to make him cautious.

The bronchoscopy to ride his lungs from the accumulated fluids was already scheduled, hopefully eliminating his need for an oxygen tank. He had tried to convince his doctors to hurry it, however, because of how close he had been to death, they wanted to observe his status and assure themselves he was stable before doing it.

Immersed in his thoughts, Niki didn't hear when the door opened, revealing a flustered James, holding his now habitual English newspaper. "So Rat, how are your beauty treatments going? Any effect yet?" the Brit blustered in, a blush on his face, and voice almost imperceptibly higher than normal. Niki stared. Then looked out of the window. The weather was slightly cloudy, with a few weak sunbeams, an atypical summer day, like the rest of the week. James couldn't be sunburnt then. But he had never seen the man's face in that shade if it wasn't for the sun, after race exhaustion or anger. Certainly never from embarrassment or shame.

If he still had eyebrows, he would have arched them. He peered at James, studying his behaviour. To his amusement, the silence and attention just made James flush harder, the red now extending to his neck. "What? Did they let a cat in and now you are too traumatized to answer Rat? Or is your tongue burned now too?" There was an edge on James's voice he didn't recognize, but his face showed he was starting to be annoyed.

"First time... I see you.... blushing, Hunt. Did one... of the nurses... embarrass Mr Breakfast... of the Champions?" Niki's teasing, to his surprise, made James redder. He dropped his mouth in shock, trying to think of what a nurse could say to make James 'sex fiend' Hunt react like that. "Did one... propose.. to you?" It was the first thing he thought of that would make Hunt so discombobulated, maybe?

Instead of answering, James threw his head back and laughed. So probably not that. "Why Rat, are you looking for a marriage candidate and don't want to compete with the James Hunt experience?" James was grinning wide, but his voice was sharper, without his amiable demeanor, and the edge had turned into annoyance.

He scoffed at James' ridiculousness - which set off a coughing fit. When he could breathe better again, James had left a water glass close to his bed and was leafing through the newspaper.

"I'm looking... for a bride... as much as... you're yearning... for a suit to wear" was his answer after carefully moving and drinking some of the water.

"So about as much a chance of that as a snowball has in the infernal fire" James snorted while briefly gazed at him before his eyes continued to slide through the headlines, preparing for their little ritual - picking the most interesting news from a narrow selection. Honestly, he was still a bit astounded that James even found an English newspaper, never mind its quality (or lack thereof).

"Yes. Stop trying... to find something... entertaining. Just start... reading". Niki settled in the bed as much as he could, before turning back to James.

The Brit was restless. Sitting on the chair close to the end of his bed, even as he supposedly scanned the news, he was distracted, stealing glances at him, fingers rattling a key chain he took from his pocket. Finally, before he could ask James what was wrong with him today, the man took a breath and gave up the newspaper as a lost cause for the moment, his gaze instead inspecting his shape on the bed.

James' stare made him uncomfortable. He knew what Hunt was seeing. An unrecognizable man chained to a bed, weak and too dependent on others, ambitions burnt to the ground along with his skin. Niki clenched his knuckles on the sheets, the only sign that he was not as calm as he appeared. He could not help his wounds, but he could control himself still, meeting Hunt's eyes with his own. To his quiet relief, the Brit didn't avoid the glare leveled at him, locking their eyes together, not faltering or retreating, instead startling Niki when James asked him: 

"It doesn't bother you? That you had to put me as your proxy for medical decisions? I doubt you would have done that if you had someone else - anyone else to take my place." James was frowning at him, having put the newspaper in the nightstand close to the water glass.

"No. If it wasn't you... I would authorize... one of the doctors... to make the calls. Why are you... worried about... this now?" He felt like there was a stone in his innards, coupled with a wish to draw more breath than he could take. He wondered if this was how James would let him know his goodwill ended, and he should get used to the loneliness. James seemed to draw in himself, before tousling his own hair, his stare directed not to him, but the end of his bed.

"In two days, I'll have to travel to Austria. I was wondering what would happen to you if I had an accident too. I mean, Pete's my proxy, but who would annoy you out of your bed if not for me?" James turned back to him, looking straight into his eyes, as was his habit since coming to the hospital, smirking at his face. Niki could feel his muscles relax, his breath leaving in a small sigh.

"You attribute... to yourself... far too much... importance, Hunt. Concentrate... on your race. Then we... will see." Conscious of his wounds, he didn't shake his head, but James's behaviour made him want to.

"Can you even watch the race from here? I mean, they must have a portable TV somewhere... It would be a shame for you to lose the chance of seeing me take first place in the podium in your country." James' voice took a lighter tone, joking with him, even while being infuriating.

"Don't get... used to it, James. I will be back... soon enough to... bust you back to second." There were cases of 'fake it until you make it' confidence and then there was James who seemed to take it as granted that the world would align itself for him.

"You break my heart this way, no support for me at all" James faked holding his heart in his hands before laughing at his roll of eyes.

"Read. Much better... activity to... occupy your... time than... your silly... jokes. Schwachkopf". It was becoming harder and harder to talk, needing more and more spacing between his words, so he could try to catch his breath.

"Are you going to start talking to me in German now, beyond calling me an asshole? Should I buy a dictionary to understand what you are saying?" James teased him, before taking back the newspaper and opening it.

"Idiot. That's... what I... called you." He hated that now he was gasping, the tempo of his lungs too irregular, not enough to say more.

"I can't expect better manners from a Rat, now can I? Let's see what we have as important financial news. We can go to the sports section latter. Consider that my mini revenge for your smart mouth." Casually, James started reading a random headline of the most boring and dry section of the paper. Niki was surprised James didn't give up on it; he could feel himself becoming bored just from hearing about the fluctuations of the market, and the speculation of what was next.

Even a passing glance at James made it obvious he also wasn't enjoying himself. Before the end of the second headline, he could already feel himself yawning, and his eyes dropping. He fought it off. Yes, he would probably sleep either way, but best wait at least for the end of the afternoon, when visiting hours were over. Thankfully, James got bored just as quickly, changing to political happenings and commenting on the appearance, character and honesty (or lack of) of each cited person.

Hours later, Niki enjoyed the small now familiar contact in his forearm, James own brand of farewell.


	8. Shattered into ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same day as last chapter, but from James POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished 05/07/2020  
This chapter fought me tooth, nail, claw and then it decided to take its pound of flesh too; and I might edit it more later, but for now it is done! One of my longest chapters...

Dragging himself awake was becoming more and more a chore. The advantage was that the nightmares weren't real. A pounding headache hasn't left James in days. Today, the cloudy feeling was also present, as if the pain wasn't enough. The hot shower he takes relieves the tension in his shoulders. Droplets seem by turns striking and refreshing when they hit his skin. He throws up after. His hands are steady when he brushes his teeth.

His first instinct is to search for a smoke, forgetting there isn't any left. Putting on clothes is akin to a treasure hunt. He looks under the bed, in the wardrobe and atop the nightstand for presentable clothes, settling for the cleanest of the lot he finds. Niki is out of danger, but the fear of aggravating his condition persists. If that means he can't smoke and should dress like a regular human for once (shoes included), that's the least he can do for Niki. Besides, the first (and only time) James tried to enter the hospital barefoot (he had forgotten his shoes at the hotel), he was denied entrance. After that, it was easier to remember to put them on, though he still disliked the necessity.

He remembers Pete's concern and decides to call his family before they think he disappeared again.

James doesn't know whether he should be insulted or sad that his mother is surprised by him calling. He settles on ashamed when he realises it has been more than a month since the last time. He chitchats with her and promises to return home for Christmas this year before talking to Peter. His brother focuses on the details of his travel plan, boring him to death. But he has the dates and times, and McLaren is happy enough that they aren't throwing a fit for now. Either way, even going at the last possible minute, there will be plenty of time left to test the new M26 in Austria. Pete also updates him on news of the paddock - Ferrari won't compete in protest, so McLaren chances (his) of catching up in points and turning around the situation are high. The only other team that may pose a problem would be Tyrrell.

As Pete drones on and on, his nausea rises. He quickly said goodbye, cutting off his brother, and generating a put upon sigh, last sound he heard before dropping the telephone back in its base.   
James slumped in the bed, waiting while it seemed as if his stomach roiled around doing acrobatics, pressing his hands in a futile attempt to calm it.

When James feels ready, he goes out. The routine is the same, get some breakfast (actual food) in the hotel, avoiding anyone that looks like they want to talk to him. In his mind, he can imagine Niki' surprise at him going without sex. The truth is, since visiting Niki, he doesn't have much of a libido. He doesn't know whether to blame that on his shock at the other driver's condition (hammering into him the reality of their sport) or the pervasive illness he feels these days. For someone who could and did have sex drunk enough to wipe his memory clean more than once, it is... disquieting.

James thinks about asking for a drink to fortify himself (maybe it will help?), but gives up on the idea - he doesn't doubt he will be chased from the burn centre if he turns up drunk or even tipsy. Abandoning Niki to look at the walls for an entire day while wondering if he's coming or not is out of the question.

His thoughts are sharper after breakfast, even if there's still a dull ache behind his eyes. After that, it's all routine. Go to the newsstand, buy a newspaper, go to the hospital.

As soon as he enters, he is hit by the antiseptic smell every hospital has.

After all this, he doubts he can ever have sex with a nurse again, being more sensitive to the way the scent clung to their clothes and bodies. And whether he wanted it or not, he now associated that with the experience of waiting for answers on Niki, of seeing glimpses of their work in treating the burnt victims and guilt.

Guilt because he was coward. He doubted anyone would say it, but he knew. He still couldn't bring himself to watch while the nurses changed Niki's bandages.

Shaking himself out of his morose thoughts, he reached his destination. As always, the halls are quiet.

By this point, he can recognize most nurses, and they know him too. So it isn't strange when Nurse Ingrid approaches him, though it spikes his anxiety, wondering if something happened to Niki.

"Mr Hunt? I am sorry to delay your visit to your partner, however, the doctor asked me to warn you we are still in the middle of a procedure. It would be better if you come back in half an hour. " the nurse said, her accent thick and wispy, eyes fixed on a patient's medical record. Her inflection on the word "partner" surprised him a little, reminding him of how Regazzoni had said "friend".

Flummoxed, he blurted without thinking: "I'm not his partner? Unless you meant rival or opponent by that?" he frowned a bit, curious.

She seemed surprised by his assertion, eyes flying to his face, and she stammered a reply: "Oh, I'm, I'm sorry sir. It's just, as you were the only visitor Mr Lauda had... And responsible for him while he was unfit..."

James stared at her for a while before understanding that she wouldn't complete her sentence, and it took him even longer to comprehend what she was insinuating. He could feel his face reddening in embarrassment and anger that she would or could think of either of them like that.

Was that what everybody thought? Just because he was helping Lauda and hadn't left him to languish alone in the hospital?

Did people had such a low opinion of him that the only reason he would have had to care was if he was having sex with someone? (A part of him drily commented that sex certainly hadn't helped Suzy, so it was ridiculous people thought he was fucking Niki).

Isabel apologized profusely, but he could only distantly hear her words.

He turned on his heels and left the burn centre. He now had 30 minutes to kill and to straighten up his head before seeing Niki. Not like it was the shorter man's fault that people thought they were... like that (besides putting him as a medical proxy).

Sitting at one of the benches in the hospital courtyard, James remembered he had never asked Lauda "why" he had decided on him of everyone they knew as the one responsible for his medical care, but then again, it wasn't as if Niki was currently capable of speaking enough to give him answers. Plus he could guess on some of the reasons. He wouldn't trust Ferrari (or anyone associated with them) to care about a plant, much less a sick person. In all the years they knew each other, he couldn't remember Lauda ever mentioning his family, for good or bad. which meant they were out of the picture, for some reason or other.

Niki had never had many close friends. Colleagues yes. For all his ruthlessness in the tracks, his dry wit and humour made him popular. And not only with the men. It was an open secret that the Austrian's last girlfriend had broken up with him because he fooled around - Lauda was no model, but the aura of fame and glamour he had as a F1 champion was enough to attract more than a few women, and he didn't pass up the chance when he had it.

While Niki wasn't as appreciative of sex as him (though the Rat would say he was sex-crazed), the Austrian had never turned down female company, and he had never seen the other driver checking or flirting with men. Scoffing, he decided to put that train of thought out of his mind. The last thing he wanted was to imagine the little rat having sex, much less gay sex.

The most probable answer, after all, was that Niki had no one else to register and that he could minimally trust as his proxy. Which... opened another entirely different can of worms. It hurt him to think of how alone Niki could have been. 

If he hadn't been there... What would've happened to him? Would he spend the days looking at the walls and having only nurses and doctors to speak to? It seemed too... impersonal, even for a reclusive, private person as Lauda.

The one upside he could see was that the nurses wouldn't have brought a bouquet into his room like he did the first time he visited.

It was... daunting. Realizing he cared. He had been in such a fugue in the early days... Driven by anxiety, fear and guilt in his actions so he never stopped to think when Niki became a priority.

Alone on the bench, watching the clouds go by the grey sky, James couldn't lie to himself and think Niki was just another rival, only an obstacle to be surpassed. Not when the sole idea of leaving to go to Austria already made him nervous. Even the possibility of racing and winning didn't comfort him.

(It would not be a duel, he wouldn't see steely blue eyes looking up at him - because the Rat was trapped in a bed in a city far away from where he would be and where duty compelled him to be - and it was his fault).

He hated remembering it - the room where Niki was. Sometimes he dreamed he arrived too late, and they were covering his small body with a sheet, the priest praying over the bed. Others, the fire left nothing recognizable in its wake except for his eyes, skin blackened and brittle or bone white, yellow marbled deep into tissue streaked with red in places, less a person than an abstract figure. It was the screaming he couldn't forget when he woke up from the nightmares. His own or Niki's.

Visiting helped. Proof to his subconscious that Niki was alive and if not well, at least recovering. When the doctor told him he was out of immediate danger - it had been one of the best news he had ever received, alleviating some of the anxiety curled in his jaw, unclenching the stress in his shoulders and lessening the unease in his stomach.

He wondered when he would be free from the guilt and what would be left of him when that happened. He couldn't see it happening. Not now. And he didn't think he could ever ask to be absolved.

(Perhaps when Lauda raced again. If he ever dared to come back. A reconstruction of a time gone and missed only in the aftermath.)

Shaking his head, James wrenched his thoughts away. He could spiral into one of his black moods in the safety of his hotel room, not while waiting in the hospital's courtyard.

There wasn't much he could use to distract himself. He didn't want to read the newspaper without Niki, changing their ritual. The trees and benches in the courtyard were mostly empty on Saturday's afternoon, most people either visiting or waiting to be seen by the doctors.

He wondered how much time it had been since Ingrid warned him to wait. Probably not long, his mind played too many tricks lately for him to trust his own perception in that area. Not that it had been too different before. But then, he could blame his drinking habit. No one was surprised when he was late if he could barely drag himself from one room to the other. It was said being sober normally made things *better*, not worse. He was still waiting for it to happen.

It would be easier. If he was drunk. He wouldn't care so much... But it wouldn't be fair. To Niki and himself. He wasn't a stellar role model of responsibility, never had been, but at least caring and doing his level best? It would be an insult to not do so.

Giving in to temptation, James looked down at his watch, which marked he had ten more minutes to wait, less than he thought.

Good enough to start walking. If he was too early, he could still wander through the halls and stairways near the burn centre.

As he got closer, besides the lack of sound, he noticed the nurses were doing their rounds. For a second he caught Ingrid looking at him, reminding him of their earlier conversation.

Feeling his skin blush, he opened the door, spewing something about Niki's beauty, hoping it would unbalance the Austrian enough to not detect his emotional state.

It didn't work, of course. He could feel himself redden even more under Niki' stare, burning his throat. When he tried again to change the matter, poking at Niki' silence, annoyed and hoping the Austrian would have the decency to not comment (useless - he should have known), the Rat managed to make it WORSE by guessing the reason was one of the nurses. At this point he could probably be used as a red signal in the next race, blood pounding in his head.

Thankfully, the other driver's theory of what a nurse could have said was so off James couldn't help but laugh, even if the mere suggestion of a marriage made him bitter (it didn't work once and he doubted it could ever work). It was obvious then Niki didn't know what others thought of this "arrangement" between them.

When he started coughing after scoffing, James as unobtrusively as possible left the water glass near his bed, going back to his chair and leafing through the newspaper, even as the words blurred together under his eyes. Niki's reaction proved he was unaware of what people thought... But it still bothered him. The why... was obvious. But what the Austrian would have done without him? And what will he do if the next GP injures him? He had never gone into a race thinking about losing or being in a crash (no matter his nickname), but now he wasn't responsible for just his life - even if Lauda was recovering, there would still be a long road.

He gave up on the distraction, instead, observing the Austrian. Whereas before he had hesitated to look at the other man's injuries, now he let his eyes stare at the bandages, the place an ear should be, the rippled skin around his eyes and reddened, the blood staining the layers of bandages. And when Niki glared at him, blue eyes fierce and determined, his mouth in a straight line - that comforted him, reminded James he was not the one fighting there, and that the Rat was more than able to come back. It was easy to believe in that room when he could see the same spirit and stubbornness under the injuries as there was in the racetrack.

So the words tumbled from his mouth, giving form to his wandering thoughts.

The answer was as he expected, no one. If he wasn't there Niki would have been left in the strict care of the doctors. It bothered him how untroubled Niki was by this. And when Niki asked why of his worry... It took a lot to not clench his teeth. To not go to the bed and shake the man until he understood - James cared, beyond rhyme and reason - he cared far too much and far more than he had ever before allowed himself to. But Niki couldn't know that he wasn't a mind reader. So James settled down and partly answered the question (he didn't think he would have been able to answer correctly, not without feeling like a berk).

Lauda didn't notice anything wrong, preferring to concentrate on the race, the workaholic.

James let the flow of insults, digs and comebacks take his mind off the future, concentrating instead on annoying the Rat bastard with the most monotonous news. And when he couldn't read anymore without falling asleep, switching back to more exciting headlines.

He wasn't happy with what he had learned in the hospital, and with going to Austria, but there wasn't a lot he could do. Touching Niki's forearm before going was his proof - that he was still alive and there.

And he could make sure Niki would at least be able to watch the race, after talking and convincing the doctors that it would help in his recovery.

Not the best of days (when Lauda was on his feet, back on the track - that would be best), but fruitful even so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if you liked/disliked!


	9. Hold my tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austrian Grand Prix 1976

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late and I still need to edit it better, but I wanted to get it out.

Arriving in Austria wasn’t as hard as he thought - Pete somehow got hold of a plane, so the journey from Germany was far less eventful and tiring than he had anticipated. He should have never doubted his brother's ability to get something done. God knows of all of them Pete was the most practical - the reason he was chosen as James' agent, a way to ground him in family and love and to help him stay alive in a sport coated in death and shards of broken dreams (and broken men).

Testing of M26 allowed him to observe and be a part of the paddock again before the race itself started, an adaptation to the realities of the Formula One circus. And yet, while everything was the same, it was all different. His wish was to go back to Germany. Whereas before he wouldn't have minded small mistakes, delays and distractions in the garage (how could he, when most of the distractions were his fault?), now his side of it was run almost ruthlessly efficiently. More than once mechanics and even Alastair Caldwell noticed and told him "he shouldn't brood so much, the championship was almost won" as if Lauda's absence would guarantee their win (as if he wanted Lauda far from the race, when in truth he wanted to see Niki race again).

His new habits didn't pass without comment, but Caldwell was happy with fewer occurrences of drunk vomiting and the mechanics didn't need to cover for him while misdirecting a cuckolded boyfriend or husband. And still, there was a cloud hanging over them, as if James compliant behavior was worse than one of his black moods, his focus on the car, race and lack of patience with his hanger-ons (female or not) contrasting with his previous conduct.

It didn't help matters when in common accord the M26 was declared not fit yet to run, having to be redesigned, its flaws smoothed out as they started thinking about the next season. In such an occasion, James pole position acquired on the qualifying, even with the strange weather sparked an inordinate amount of relief over something so inconstant. In the morning of the race, there was still overcast weather - grey skies for a grey race - not only Niki was missing, but so were the Ferraris in protest of the decision in Spain. 

Thinking of the red cars made James clench his jaw. If the old man had protested over his driver safety he would have respected Enzo Ferrari's position. As it was, the Scuderia refusal in taking part of the Grand Prix was only one more move in the political game of Formula One, and not a well thought out one. All they did was waste a perfect good lead Lauda had got them with their pride. James could almost hear the Austrian's grumbling about Ferrari' stupidity. He missed Niki's dry wit, blunt words leading to a razor sharp awareness of himself and others, disconcerting when you were the target and somewhat amusing when only an onlooker in someone else's misfortune.

In the atmosphere that crawled inside his skin and left his body drawing for air, it was a relief to throw up before the race - a fixed point of routine while everything else (including himself) changed into a world without his rival, without red cars and jeering in Italian, without electric blue eyes and a smooth accented voice enumerating all his defects and vices.

He preferred the blurry edges of the bottom of a bottle, and the confidence his life didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. (His hands trembled when he gripped the steering wheel. And he knew he couldn't allow himself to die)

The fourth place was a relief - he had completed his duty as required by contract.

He didn't stay long enough for the commemoration party, and by morning, James was already on his way back to Germany, this time taking the long way roads, he needed to clear his head. Most of the times he let life carry him in its movements of advance and retreat, victories and losses. It didn't make sense to fight against it. 

But now Niki was waiting for him back in Mannheim. And he couldn't run away from the consequences. Then again, it wasn't as if he could forget them either way: it would have always been a niggling sense of guilt, needling his pride and sharpening his self-loathing into a carving knife, hollowing him from the inside out (it was still doing so - the wounds created while he was far from Niki, and allayed when he realized the man was still breathing and alive and not ruined forever), until there was nothing left to destroy in him. 

The idea was unsettling because he could almost taste the bitterness of such an existence, like an itch under the skin you could never reach and that kept sending signals, until you realize you had bloody scratches in your hands and there was nothing to stop it from happening again and again.

James shuddered and concentrated back on the road. There were still many kilometres to drive.

He hoped Niki had been able to watch the race. Hoped to see him better after the cleaning of his lungs and the surgery on his eyes. (And feared to arrive only to watch Lauda slip back in a dreamless coma, or into a sudden death).

It took him two days of hard driving, barely stopping to sleep, but it was a relief to arrive. Even more so to appear close enough to visiting hours to be admitted without a fuss, even if Niki was already sleeping.

Every time he looked at Niki, it was the same thing, the same feeling - of happiness, of contentment that got to him. God, if someone had warned him a month ago that he would be so attached to the rat bastard, he would have laughed. Now? A week away from him and he was left in a brooding mood, as if Niki was the center of his life (and wasn't he? Or better yet, currently, weren't they the center of each other's life? It certainly seemed so in the white walls of the hospital, the shadows deepening with the setting sun and reminding him of his tiredness (of the race, of life, of seeing what happened with Niki).

It didn't make anything right - but it did good to him all the same when he briefly touched Niki's arm, searched his face and bandaged head and realized there were no changes for worse, only the slow healing signs of fire encrusted on his skin.


	10. Right in front of me

Looking at Niki again, that was when it hit him, in the shadowed room of the burn centre, with the overcast weather his only company as he was hit with the realization of his own feelings. It was truly laughable. He imagined what anyone else would say, perhaps they would think he was joking, being ironic (even though his heart was beating loud enough he thought he would be ill), after all how could James Hunt be in love with a man, much less the one nicknamed the Rat, his rival? No great beauty, especially now, charred and burned. 

As if it was that the most important thing - he knew people thought he was a vain asshole (true), but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of admiring spirit and wit, determination and will (and Niki had all of those to spare)

Sitting there, watching Niki's chest rise and fall, he was afraid, not as much as when he was waiting for news if he would live or die after the accident, but still, there's a cold ache in his bones, the understanding that he loves and doesn't know how to love (didn't even know he would be able to love a man), and he doubts Niki would even believe (or want) him to. There's no reason for him to want - nor should he. And who would blame him? Why would Niki choose him (male, problematic, a rival, the one responsible for his accident) over the many women and groupies that are always present in Formula 1? No reason, and no hope. 

Lauda had been one of his fixed points before, one of the cornerstones of his existence - if there was a race, Niki would be there, to challenge him, to push him to new heights, to fight him (even to counsel him). And the accident had stripped that away - both his presence as well as the certainty that Niki would be there. No wonder he had focused exclusively on him in the hospital, no matter what others said, that he should be prepared for the worst to happen... He choked back a laughter when remembering the nurse's assumptions of relationship - it was obvious to most people after the accident... He wonders if it hadn't happened, would he have an epiphany? Or would he be forever blind? How long? How long had he felt more than he should for his rival?

Looking at Niki, he knows he shouldn't wake him up, he needs all the rest possible after the last round of surgery, but he is selfish. Selfish enough to carefully touch Niki's forearm - instead of the normal feather light touch, or a fast brief goodbye, this time he allows himself to enjoy it. Enjoy the warmth of Niki's arm, the texture of his skin, the softness of it under his fingers. Watches as he feels the pulse and life so reassuringly there. The comfort the touch brings him is more than he imagined, and he doesn't sit, even as Niki starts to move, as he shivers and his eyelids open, clear blue eyes taking the time to observe the room, confused when they settle on him, (he could almost hear "what is the asshole doing here?"). He doesn't move his hand. 

(He will, if Niki asks, but right now, he will be selfish, and keep contact for as long as possible, storing warmth and sensation - he doubts he will ever be in this position twice)

"Asshole, did you come back earlier... Just to bother me? I thought I would have more... free time before you returned to annoy me" Niki's breathing and speaking abilities were much improved from when he last visited before the race - the bronchoscopy having a great effect in his condition, his voice somewhat raspy and soft, still sleepy.

"Well, I had to guarantee you knew I am going after you in the standings, didn't I? While you stay here and take naps, I will soon be nipping at your heels and trophy" He forced a smile on his face, taking away his hand, knowing he was pushing it by letting it rest so long in Niki's forearm.

"If you have the same performance as in Austria, you will only dream of the trophy. Also, don't get too used... to my absence, I am going back to the title competition still. So don't get too complacent - or better yet, don't get more complacent than you already are... After all you did lose the chance for a podium there from the pole you had" huffed Niki, his breathing faster now, annoyed and exasperated, berating him. 

"So you did watch the race! Well, well sometimes luck plays against the best of us, Rat, this time I wasn't her favorite, doesn't mean you will be able to knock me down from my place as number one this year though. First you would have to be able to stand up on your power, a feat for you right now" James shrugged, hiding his hands in his pockets, trying to conserve the warmth he could feel in his left hand from touching Niki.

(Luck played against you, the best between the two of us, and now I'm at your side here in this hospital and I don't know what else to do, how to help or if I can help even when I realize I love you.)

"I think your trip from Austria has confused... you Hunt. Last I saw, the one still in front... was me, you haven't caught up yet, and you won't." Niki curtly replied, eyelids at half-mast, glaring at him.

"Oh, sensitive about your standing? You should be. Ferrari may be first still, but we are catching up, it will take a while, but eh, sometimes patience is required." James dragged the chair closer to the bed before sitting down on it, no point to hover over Lauda.

"You talking about patience? Has a doppelganger taken your place, Hunt?"

James bit his tongue (I learned patience with you, at your side in a hospital bed. Didn't help me much, but I did learn it, along with a measure of self-control to my team's amazement and worry)

"No. I learned I do have it, especially when the prize is a trophy at the end of the season. My mother would have loved it if I had learnt it when I was young, probably would have saved her from some white hairs and more than a few not well thought off plans" James said laughing.

"You talk, talk, but it seems more... that you are trying to convince yourself rather than me, idiot. " Lauda told him lazily, blue eyes blinking before he yawned.

"No, I am only telling you so you know it's pointless to even try, and that i will take good care of this year's trophy" James riposted (I want you to fight, I want you to come after me, and the only way I know is to anger you)

"Keep telling yourself that, vice-champion. You still have to prove you can win, and your grace period is coming to a close, James." So saying, Lauda yawned again.

"You will have to stay awake for more than half an hour first, Niki. But good to see you again. I will be back tomorrow on visiting hours, yes? Keep breathing, I will be annoyed if I come all the way here tomorrow and you are inconsiderate enough to have passed away" James says it in a rush, torn between malice and his need for Niki to be there.

"As if I would give up that easily." Niki snorted, nose wrinkling. "You know you don't have to, right? I would understand if you wanted to go back to London or somewhere else. You don't have to chain yourself to me, I'm not going to die just because you are not here" He said, staring at James, willing him to understand and believe.

James swallowed, sighing "Have you thought that I want to be here? No one can make me do anything I don't want. Besides, it's amusing to watch you like a cat every time I say something - my personal entertainment".

"Go to hell Hunt" Niki hissed, eyes flashing blue.

"Exactly like that", James said laughing, completing their ritual of touching his forearm, this time, dragging his thumb in a caress over the unmarred skin, letting it rest for an additional two, three seconds more than normal, before taking it away (before Niki asked him what the hell he thought he was doing).

"Until tomorrow, archslog"

"Until tomorrow, Rat"

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr for Launt drabbles: https://launt-things.tumblr.com/


End file.
